


Crowley Can't Thermoregulate

by AssortedSnakeNoises



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Fluff, Gen, One Shot, Platonic Cuddling, aziaphale is clueless, aziraphale is very confused, but again then again when is he not, but like when it he not, crowley is basically a snake, i wrote most of this running on four hours of sleep, so sorry for that, thermoregulation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-19
Updated: 2019-06-19
Packaged: 2020-05-14 16:29:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19277113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AssortedSnakeNoises/pseuds/AssortedSnakeNoises
Summary: Snakes can't thermoregulate, and both Aziraphale and Crowley learn this the hard way. Self indulgent fluff. I don't think that this would work in canon, but this is fanfiction, and that's kinda the point.





	Crowley Can't Thermoregulate

It was too cold. At least, for his liking. Though, he thought as he shuffled through the freezing rain, anyone who fancies this weather is bonkers. It’s not like he didn’t anticipate this. He had multiple layers on, as he always does, but they seemed to be working against him in this situation. The rain was soaked in all his layers, and no matter how he moved, they were wrapping their cold cloth around him. The cold and the wet felt like it was seeping into his very bones, and the patter of the rain against his skull was harsh and loud, blocking out any other noises. He was tired and groggy, from what he wasn’t really sure, but most of all he was cold. So, so cold he could barely comprehend it, and he seemed to be getting colder by the minute.

His tired, cold body wasn’t doing much thinking at the moment, except for the few internal quips at passing things, and home. Or anything. A warm place, a safe place. His flat came to mind, but it was far, too far. A close place, a safe place, a warm place he felt welcome, and his brains slow train of thought drifted towards the home of the companion he had had for so many years now. He thought about it, stumbling a few times, and came to the simple consensus that if the angel thought it was a good place to spend as much time as he does there, then it would be fine for him. It had to be around somewhere… but how did he get there? He didn’t remember the exact directions but if he just… wandered for a bit, he would probably find it. Muscle memory and all that, right? He was too tired to look around for much longer. It still like he was too tired to do much. Breathing was getting more and more tedious, and his feet were starting to feel like lead. In all the rain and dark he was only able to see a ways in front of him, and in his line of vision there was a worn metal bench. Slick with water and cold, the only thing that was better about this bench than the space around it was that it was a place to sit. A cold, wet place to sit, but he was already so cold and so wet it didn’t make much difference. He could feel every part of his body shake like a perfectly cared for leaf. His teeth were knocking against each other like someone was very anxious to get in a place, as he was very anxious to be able to sit down. He stumbled towards the bench and took a seat, pulling his soaked jacket more across his body, as if that would do anything about the harsh rain and cold that was berating him. He closed his eyes, and the last thought he had before he slipped unconscious was a warm place, a dry place, and a friend.

Aziraphale thought that today would be normal, and up until that point it was. His shop was open, and a little after he closed it for the day, it had started raining. At first, not hard, but as the evening progressed, the rain had gotten heavier. The wind was blowing, and the rain was pounding. He didn’t think it would be an issue, he just closed all his windows and doors, to protect his books, of course. He was warm, near the fire, reading a selection from one of his shelves. Suddenly, the door blew open and rain started pouring in the shop. He jumped up and slammed the door shut, but noticed one of the bolts had come loose. He jimmied it back into place, but it was cracked. What convenience. It was late, but not too late to pop over to the hardware store and grab a few bolts. He popped on his coat and head out the door.

As he was walking, he didn’t expect anyone to be out and about. It was late and raining, and most people didn’t like to be up and about when it was late and raining.

Except for one person, apparently.

"Excuse me!” The man who was curled up on the bench didn’t respond.

“It’s really pouring down, you might want to get out of the rain!” He had to nearly shout to be able to be heard over the rain.  
“Excuse me, sir,” It was at this point that he figured he might as well turn the poor fellow over. He had no clue how long he had been out here, but he looked to be absolutely soaked.

Not to be rude…. He began to think. But what kind of person just sits here and lets the rain soak him wet?  
As he lightly touched him, he could feel just how much he was shaking. A person with not much sense, obviously.  
He pulled the jacked off the man's upper body, where it was wrapped around him. His hair, though it was matted down from the wet, was somehow still recognizable, and the glasses.

Oh no, this is my idiot with not much sense.

It was the demon that he had known for so many years, curled up on a park bench in the middle of a storm. And he was shivering so... violently. He gently touched his skin, but recoiled immediately. He was so, so cold. He must have been out here for hours, maybe longer. Why the heaven was he out here? He couldn’t... die in earthly ways, he knew that. The only way he could... pass was from holy water, and after what happened in 1676 AD, he’d never let him go near that stuff ever again.

He shook him gently.

“Crowley, dear,” he started, but he didn’t get a response and Crowley didn’t stir whatsoever. He shook him harder.

“Crowley, wake up right now, you’re freezing.” He added a little ‘idiot’ to the end of his sentence, low enough that Crowley couldn’t hear. But it seemed like he couldn’t hear either way.

He wasn’t waking up, even as Aziraphale shook him, hard.

Oh no. He thought as he contemplated his situation. His thoughts were all over the place, but most of them were focused on getting Crowley to a place where we weren't being berated by rain and wasn’t shivering like a leaf in hundred mile winds, and how, in all of heaven and hell, he would be able to get a soaking wet, unconscious Crowley to the bookshop. In all the time that they’ve known each other, Aziraphale has never had to deal with Crowley unconscious, and frankly, it was stressful.

He put his hands underneath his armpit and sat him in an upright position. He carefully removed his glasses. His eyes were shut closed, and his limbs were limp against his side.

Aziraphale didn’t seriously think that Crowley could get hurt from earthly things like rain. He was supposed to be… strong. And able. And a little cold had made him so weak. And he didn’t even know why! He didn’t know how to help him, either.

Following human procedures, he thought, cringing that he had to treat his friend like he was human, ...I don’t know human procedures. Oh! He though, and his spirits lifted. Crowley bought me that new… computer! It has an application that allows the user to “look things up”, so I’ll do just that. He set that issue to rest, feeling better about the situation.

There was still a problem, though. He was knocked out cold. Well, getting him to the bookshop wouldn’t be much of a problem. He just… uh…drag him. Sure.

He took him under the armpits and hoisted him up standing. 'Oof, he’s long. I could always sling him over my back, like a sack of potatoes.' He suddenly had a mental image of Crowley’s face continuously bumping and scraping on the ground behind him while Aziraphale had him by the feet. Hmm, maybe not.

He dragged him toward the bookshop, walking backwards to drag Crowley, which was a little precious, as he kept thinking he would knock himself into something, but looking behind him from time to time worked fine in avoiding any bumps.

Crowley was still shivering. If anything, he was shivering more than when Aziraphale found him. He stopped for a second and touched his cheek. He felt like death. Worse than death, he thought. He really should speed up in getting him to the bookshop.

Within a few minutes they arrived, and while Aziraphale fiddled with the key and knocked Crowley against the door frame a few times trying to drag him in, he noticed that his eyes were slipping open. He quickly dragged him over to the nearest couch and laid him there, but Crowley was already awake.  
Barely? His yellow snake eyes were opened a thin slice, but he wasn’t moving. Except for the violent shivering, of course.

He crouched down to his side and pushed him a little. His eyes slid open just enough to that he knew he could see him.

“Mm…. ‘ziraphale?” He mumbled. Why was he so tired, wasn’t he just sleeping?

“Yes, Crowley?” His tone implied the utmost patience.

Crowley opened his eyes a bit more and was glancing around the room. “Where ‘re we?” He said, confused.

But now it was Aziraphale that was confused. “The bookshop, dear. Are you feeling alright?”

He shook his head so little it was almost not a recognizable gesture.

“What ‘append?” He said, rubbing his arms a little.

“You don’t remember?” Aziraphale was surprised. Being freezing cold in the rain didn’t seem like something one would forget so easily.

“Vaguely-ish.” He said, squinting his eyes.

“Well, I found you on a park bench, wet and shivering, and I brought you to the bookshop.

Crowley nodded, still in a stupor.

“Feelss like all my… uh...life… ‘asss been ssucked out my asssss…” That was quite out of the blue. He keeps elongated his s’s, which mean he’s forgotten himself. Well, if he hadn’t figured that from the unconsciousness, he figured it now.

“Oh… okay. That’s…” Aziraphale didn’t exactly know how to respond to that, but it turned out that he didn’t have to. The lids of his eyes closed a bit and closed as he snuggled up more into the couch.

“Wait! Crowley, don’t go to sleep, I need to find out whats wrong to help you!” Okay, he didn’t mean to exactly say that but it didn’t matter anyways. Crowley left off into a dream land, away from the book shop and away from Aziraphale.

Aziraphale sighed, a bit disappointed. He was hoping to be able to do everything while Crowley was conscious, but if it didn’t work out that way, oh well.

He was still shivering, and still wet, but Aziraphale couldn’t think of anything to help that when he was sleeping. He could think of one thing though, so he grabbed the nearest blanket and draped it over him.

The computer was in the other room, but he didn’t really want to leave Crowley alone, in case he wakes up and doesn’t know where he is again, or in case he just does something stupid, which would be very on key for his kind of character. Though, he thought, wasn’t the computer Crowley bought him some kind of ‘laptop’? By definition, he could put it on his lap, right? Then he could watch Crowley and do research on how to help him.

He retrieved the laptop quickly from one of the other rooms. It took a little bit to power it on, and he had to rummage around for the password to open it, which turned out to be ‘bentlyisbae’. It took him a little bit to find the ‘search bar’, and he took a little more time than he should have typing in his query, but finally he was satisfied with the “how would one treat a shivering wet and cold demon?” And he pressed enter.

At the end of his search, he did not find information specifically about demons, but he did find information about snakes, thermoregulation, and hypothermia.

Apparently, when humans have the ailment of hypothermia, you have to remove all wet clothing and make them as warm as possible. Warm drinks, warm clothes, body heat, that sort of thing. Additionally, snakes can’t thermoregulate, They’re cold blooded creatures. They ‘bruminate’ in the colder months, where they only wake up for nutrients. He assumed that was part of the reason he was so tired, or as he so eloquently put it ‘Felt like life had been sucked from his ass’.

He knew that Crowley had put an extra set of clothes in his flat, for whatever reason, he just needed to find them and convince Crowley to change.

He rummaged around the bookshop, and shoved on the fireplace between a few books, there was a stack of neatly folded clothes. He unfolded them and… they were all leather… and snakeskin? It couldn't be. “Oh, this won’t do.” He muttered quietly. The article he has read had specifically stated that warm clothes were a must. Crowley could always just wear some of Aziraphale’s, he was sure he had some warm winter sweaters lying about… but what about pants? Did he need them? He didn’t have any warm ones, and the ones he did have were a little big for Crowley. he could give him long socks. That would work. Great, so all he needed to do was wake him up. Goodie.

He leaned over and shook him. “Crowley, wake up.” His tone was still patient. “You have to change.”

Crowley’s slit eyes start to open, slowly. “What? Change? Why?” His words were still slurred and sort of half-said.

“Because your still shivering, dear.” He was a little harsher with ‘shivering’, but it would be obvious, wouldn’t it? It seemed like the blanket didn’t do anything at all.

“Huh. Guesss I am. Sssatan, it’ss cold asss heaven in here.” He said, his teeth chattering. Hmm. Aziraphale didn’t think heaven was all that cold, but to each their own.

“Well, lucky for you, I have warm things.” Crowley looked up hopefully. “Here, change out of your cold wet clothes and into these.” He put down the underwear from Crowley’s clothes pile, his warmest sweater, which happened to be his biggest one, and the longest socks he could find.

“These… aren’t my clothes.” He was obviously confused.

“Your clothes were all leather and snakeskin, Crowley, pardon me for not letting you wear them when you’re freezing.” He said crisply.

“Ugh. Fine.” He attempted to stand himself up, but almost immediately he leavened forward so severely it could have been qualified as plummeting.

“Woah!” He quickly wrapped his arms around his front torso and hoisted him back up. “What was that?” He said, somewhat surprised.

“I….” He cleared his throat. “Not sure. Probably not a big deal.”

“‘Not a big deal’, right, just like how breaking into the Vatican wasn’t a big deal. Or 187 AD, Rome, or 1993 AD SoHo, or….”

“Okay! Fine.” Aziraphale nodded and slightly smiled, glad to finally get him to admit it. That usually didn't work. but who was he to complain?

“Do you need help?” He wasn’t expecting an answer, he never really did, probably a snide comment or something of the-

“Yeah. Probably.” Huh. He really was out of it.

“Well, alright. I’ll help you toward a back room where you can change and help you back when your done, how about that?” He was being quite pleasant, for once, so Aziraphale thought he would return the favor.

“Yess, okay, I ssuppose that’d be fine.” This was suspiciously easy. He was leaned back onto the couch, and his eyes were almost closed by this point, so Aziraphale assumed it was because he was tired.

He slowly moved towards Crowley and gently touched his upper arm, trying to lead him upwards. As soon as he touched him, he almost… gasped? Aziraphale looked at him questioningly, but nothing was said. Hm.

Crowley took a while to get himself up, but when he was, he was basically putting all his weight on Aziraphale. Maybe this would be easy if he just carried him. No, he’d probably hiss at me. He wrapped a hand around Crowley’s waist to support him, and he once again, did that weird gasp thing.

“Are you okay, dear?” Maybe he was hurt somewhere and he wasn’t telling him, it’s not like it hasn’t happened before.

“Jusst… cold.” It wasn’t very convincing, but Aziraphale dropped it anyways.

They shuffled towards one of the back rooms, with the clothes under Aziraphales arm. They made it to the room with Crowley stumbling only a few times, and Aziraphale lead him in and handed him the clothes.

“Okay, here’s the clothes, shout if you need anything, alright?” He said.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m not a little old lady…” Thee was that familiar snark he had gotten so used to.

Crowley closed the door, leaning heavily on the wall, and after a moment, Aziraphale thought it would be wise to make some tea. Cocoa for him, of course.

He walks into the little kitchen area and puts the pot on, bringing out two mugs and getting the cocoa mixture out. He heard shuffling behind him, and turn around to meet it.

When he turned around, what he did meet was Crowley in his sweater and socks, bare legs, heavily leaning on the door. The woolly material reached below his underwear, so it looked like a fuzzy patterned poncho. The sleeves exceeded his hands, so the fabric flopped around his hands. The shirt collar was big, to, so it slid just a bit off his shoulder, exposing his collarbone.

“Oh, hello. I’m making tea.” Aziraphale said pleasantly.

“Where are my pantss?” He said, utterly confused.

“Pardon?” He said, pouring the hot water in the mugs and adding the tea.

“My pantss. Where are they.” His tone is just as confused.

“I gave you socks, I didn’t have any pants that would fall off you and your snake skin ones simply wouldn’t do. It’s not that big a deal.” His tone was so relaxed and nonchalant, in Crowley’s tired and confused state he didn’t think much of it.

“I’m ssstill freezing as hell… heaven … whatever, it’ss cold.” He half whined.

“Go back to the couch, I’ll bring you tea.” Crowley’s face softened. He followed the wall back to the couch.

Aziraphale sweetness the tea to Crowley’s liking and put a little cinnamon in the cocoa, and he was just about to make his way to the couch when he a thud and a groan.

Oh. He thought. That probably wasn’t a good idea.

He follows the wall that Crowley did and finds him shivering on the floor.

“Alright, dear?” He asks.

“Fine, angel.” His voice is muffled from being shoved into the floor.

“Do you need help to the couch?” He asks, half expecting an answer considering all the actual answers he’s been getting.

“No, I can do it mysself.” He said. He doesn’t move.

“Okay, come on, I’ll help you-“

“Jeez, ‘ziriphale, I can do it myself!” He cuts him off and snaps.

Aziraphale stiffens up. All I’m trying to do is help, he has no right to snap at me. “Fine. I’ll take the drinks into the couch area. I’ll meet you there.” So Aziraphale walks over to the couch and puts the two mugs on a nearby table. If Crowley really doesn’t need his help, then he would just wait for him.

He cracks open a book as he waits for a few minutes. He feels bad doing this. Crowley was injured after all, and he is kinda notorious for being stubborn as a bull. It would hurt to check on him, right?

Aziraphale gets up and walls over to where Crowley fell, and he… isn’t moving. At all.

He bends down quickly and shoves him a little harder than he needed, but Crowley’s eyes crack open anyways.

“Oh… hi.” He said, rubbing his eyes a little. “I might need… a little help.”

Aziraphale pursed his lips a little, but even though he looked disappointed, he wasn’t. He was… he didn’t know. He couldn’t really put a word to the emotion he felt. His best friend… okay, only friend, was on his floor, having trouble thermoregulation because he was a snake. What human emotion conveys that?

Oh well, he could always figure it out later, like when his demon friend didn’t need his help.

Since he was on the floor it’d be hard to do the drag this he did to get him to the book shop, so he wrapped his arms around him and lifted him up.

Instead of doing the weird gasp thing that Crowley had been doing, he audibly… yelped? That seemed like the right word for it, but the only time he’d heard something like it is when one the demons he worked with came over the radio, but that was more violent.

He stopped moving when Crowley made that noise, which meant Aziraphale was crouched down with Crowley in his arms.

“Did I hurt you, dear?” Aziraphale was a little concerned at this point. He didn’t think Crowley was hurt, there wasn’t any blood anywhere when he found him on the park bench.

“No, angel, I’m fine.” He said, a little to fast for Aziraphales liking. He was in a hard spot. He didn’t know whether to believe him or not. It’s happened to many times before to trust his judgements.

He was getting a little annoyed at him at this point. If he was just honest with him, he could help him.

“Seriously Crowley, if you keep this up I’ll have to strip search you.” He said, half joking.

Crowley half grinned. “If I half to do it,” he laughed a little. “You gotta do it to.”

“If that’s what you need.” He mumbled. He continued to pick him up and when he arrived at the couch, he sat down with Crowley still in his arms.

He slid him off him once he sat down, so they were right next to each other.

Glancing over, he noticed Crowley was still shivering. He reached over and casually stroked his leg a little, just trying to check if he was still cold. He was. But just as he touched him, Crowley made that little gasping noise again. He had done it what, four times now?

“Crowley. If you are hurt, tell me. You know I can help you. There’s no need to hide it, how many times have I told you?” He was losing his patience.

“It’ss not that…” He mumbled.

“Then what is it?” His voice was gentler now.

“It’ss jusst…you…never touch me. Like, ever. Not a bad thing! Jusst… not ussed to it.” He paused. “I guesss.”

“Oh,” He was a little surprised. “Is it a problem?” The last thing he wanted to do was to make Crowley uncomfortable.He wasn't even aware he could be uncomfortable, he didn't seem to have a sense of shame.

“No!” He said, very quickly and very loudly. He cleared his throat. “No. It’ss not. It’s just… different.”

“Understood.” He started to get up. It was at this moment that Crowley, very suddenly, grabbed his arm sleeve and held on.

“You don’t need to leave! It’sss just.. it’sss just.. I’m sssorry I didn’t mean to make it weird it’ss not weird we’re friends, friends touching each other is normal and-“ Aziraphale cut him off.

“I’m just grabbing a few more blankets. The one you had is soaked, and I have a few more warm ones in the back.” It wasn’t that big a deal, Aziraphale didn’t think.

Crowley felt a blush creep up on his cheeks. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m cold. Go… uh… get them.” He awkwardly averted his gaze.

As Aziraphale walked towards the back, he heard Crowley shuffle on the couch in a laying down position. He guessed he was still tired from all the cold.

That outburst was rather odd though. Aziraphale did suppose he didn’t really touch Crowley all that much, but he didn’t think it was a big deal either way, if he did or if he didn’t. Oh well.

He came back to the couch with several big, fuzzy blankets for them both. It seemed like Crowley had fallen asleep, again, and Aziraphale didn’t really want to wake him up, again. He needed the sleep, probably.

He grabs the book he was reading earlier, and covers Crowley in blankets. He sits down close and moves Crowley’s head in his lap. With the way Crowleys spread out on the couch, he wouldn’t have fit any other way.

Aziraphale runs his hand through Crowley’s hair once, looking at him. The feeling, the weird emotion from before swells in his chest again. He still can’t really pinpoint what it was, but Crowley did say they were friends so… friendship. Yes, friendship seemed like a good word for it. He’d never had a good, proper friend before, so he guessed that this was what it felt like. It felt… different than what he imagined it to be. More… intimate.

He picked up his book and started reading. It was a good one, one of his favorites. He was very glad that no one had tried to buy it yet.

After a while, he was maybe a chapter or two into the book, Crowley woke up a bit. He took in some of what was happening, and managed to figure out that he was laying on Aziraphales lap. It was very warm, warmer than the blankets, and warmer than the couch.

He wanted to be warm. Crowley scooted towards the warmth, towards his angel.

Aziraphale noticed that Crowley was curling himself up and leaning more and more on him. When he stopped moving, his entire body was practically on his lap. His head was on his shoulder, and he buried his head in the crook of his neck before he went limp and fell asleep one final time.

Crowley looked very at peace when he was asleep, a change from the violence and stubbornness from when he was awake. The… friendship feeling swelled in his chest again, this time stronger. It was a little like pride. That was silly, though.

Even if it was silly, and even if he wasn’t used to having this friendship feeling, he might be able to get used to it. With time.

He did really like it though.

**Author's Note:**

> The dates that are given for when Crowley has been a dumbass, which let's be honest is continuous and always, are references to some of my friends works in Good Omens, if you were wondering.


End file.
